


For The Drama

by Deathcomes4u



Category: Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other, Snippets, Writing Prompt, sunstreakerweek, sunstreakerweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathcomes4u/pseuds/Deathcomes4u
Summary: This snippet was made to fill a prompt for Sunstreaker Week 2020, the unofficial/casual theme week I set up to run from June 14-21.This one is Day 5 - For the Drama.My other prompt fills have all been art, this is the first fic one. The next one is also likely to be fic.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	For The Drama

**Author's Note:**

> Sunstreaker is a survivor. if he has to put on a show to keep him and Sideswipe safe, then a show is what he will give.

He waited patiently behind the gates.

The crowd sounded big, rowdy, already pretty drunk and probably getting low on credits.

Well… if they hadn’t been low on credits before they would be in a few kliks once the betting pool closed for this match.

He rolled his helm, loosening up the joints in his neck, getting the oil flowing. He shook out his arms and legs to test that all his sensors were functioning optimally.

Well… they were as optimal as they could be on the slop they gave him that they dared to call energon.

Primus he hated this place. Hated it with every fibre of his being. But he knew how to play a game. Knew how to make the best of a bad situation.

The announcer started to echo, voice booming across the arena.

The gate lifted.

Sunstreaker strode forward, back straight, gait loose and careless.

When the lights hit his finish he raised his arms, optics locking on his opponent’s as he strutted across the floor. When he reached his starting platform, he turned slowly, posing, making sure the lights caught his best angles.

The crowd was making an insane amount of noise.

Sunstreaker heard his opponent make a snide comment, and he tilted his helm back, locking optics once more.

He already knew this bot. Had asked around to get his measure, and was fully aware of what weaknesses he would need to exploit. The plain looking heavy class vehicle bot was flaring his armour threateningly, stance pretty typical, if amateurish.

This really wasn’t a fair fight. On the outside of course, it looked like a typical heavyweight vs speedster match. But Sunstreaker wasn’t a typical speedster, and there was nothing lightweight about him. The other bot was probably fast for a heavy, but that wouldn’t save him.

The less anyone knew about Sunstreaker’s true abilities the better. He and Sideswipe hadn’t lasted this long by laying all their cards on the table.

The klaxon rang out, and the other mech charged immediately.

Sunstreaker waited until the time was right, stance fully relaxed until he sprung into action, dancing out of the way.

The other bot’s momentum carried him too far, and Sunstreaker could have followed and got him in a headlock easily, but he spun in place and grinned at the crowd instead. Waiting for his opponent to gather himself.

The bot already looked furious. He charged again, trying to follow when Sunstreaker once again spun out of the way, but his grabbing arms were deflected deftly.

The bot paused his assault, realising now that he wasn’t just dealing with someone nimble. Sunstreaker stared at him, optics mocking, laughing audibly.

The bot was learning. He feigned a lunge and sidestepped to drop low and sweep at Sunstreaker’s legs.

Infuriatingly, the golden bot danced away from the blows, almost literally. The spinning leap he employed to avoid the leg sweep was so graceful that the heavy bot was momentarily stunned by the beauty of it.

The tiny moment of awe was all Sunstreaker needed.

When he landed his spin, he crouched into the landing, springing forward and surging into the other bot suddenly. He knocked them onto their back with a strike of palm heel to chin. Sunstreaker heard the bot’s jaw dislocate, felt it along his arm, but drew his arm back before the force could fully settle into him.

Now would be the perfect time to enact a killing blow.

But he didn’t.

Sunstreaker stepped away, turning in a slow circle with his arms raised, stirring up the crowd again.

If he struck now, the match would be over too soon. Their captors would be displeased.

Technically the match could have ended in five nanokliks.

But that would have been worse.

So Sunstreaker had to play with his prey. The bot seemed to realise he might be a little outmatched, but had enough ego left to get to his pedes and try again.

It was more of the same. Trying to attack in different ways, desperate to get even one hit in on his cocky, glittering foe. He got a few glancing blows, which the mech played up for some reason. Acting as if he’d been hit squarely when he barely had a scratch. What was the deal with this bot?

At some point, Sunstreaker decided he’d done enough pretending he was getting worn down. The crowd had been ramping up, going nuts, they were ready for real energon to be spilt.

It was the part he hated the most.

Sunstreaker let the other bot get in close, forcing him to melee in tight formation, keeping him spinning as he deflected blows and yanked the bot about. Eventually he got the bot so off-balance he could pull him into a headlock with barely any effort.

It didn’t take much to snap his neck with the amount of momentum they’d built up.

The bot flopped on the floor on his back, immobilized, unable to feel his body but still alive… still aware.

Sunstreaker put a foot on the bot’s midriff and raised his servos to whip the crowd up again. The sound was deafening. They knew what was coming. The cocky smirk felt like a mask by now.

When his optics met with the bot beneath him, the fire was gone. There was nothing but stony indifference. The heavy bot’s optics widened.

Sunstreaker knelt, mouthing words the bot couldn’t hear but could read on his lips.

The bot couldn’t say anything. He offlined his optics.

Sunstreaker tore the mech’s chestplates open. He Ripped the spark casing out as fast as possible, glad the bot had spared him from watching the light in his optics die, even as he felt the warmth in his palm fading, cooling.

He stood, spark casing held aloft as he affixed his cocksure mask in place again.

Energon ran down his arm, gumming up his fingers, his wrist, his elbow.

It was all for the drama.

And the drama was all to keep them alive.

And he despised it.


End file.
